How She Came To Be
by Chikin Wang
Summary: [Complete] It's barely a month into the school year and Hermione explodes because Ron was being Ron. A series of flashbacks of what happened to make her become the girl that she is.
1. Do it yourself!

I hate writer's block. It's…evil. Evil, I say! Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeevil.

I love stretching words out, don't you?

But, seriously it IS evil. I can only write a REALLY good something, like, once every seven months, and even then it isn't that good. It's depressing when there are all these amazing writers (e.g. Inconnu, Rhiawen, Zimagesto, AllDayIDreamAboutFics, Cyrano de Tucson, etc.) and it's…really, truly depressing. In a good way, though. You'd think it would motivate the lazy writers like me, but, sadly, no, that's not how the world works.

So, here's my newest HP fic.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Harry Potter. I'm too much on the slow side to own them in anyway. And do not worry, people, I shoot myself down all the time. It kinda rubbed off one of my friends and…it's weird. But that's not part of the disclaimer, so we'll just pretend it's not there 'coz it's too cold in my room to even bother with the back space button right now.

* * *

**_How She Came To Be_**

**Chapter One**:  
_Do it Yourself _

* * *

The clock of the dusty library chimed midnight as Hermione Granger finished her three feet long essay on the uses of gas-puffing roots. She sighed happily as the last dot of ink glistened in the dim lamplight.

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione groaned inwardly as a lady with a vulture-like façade and a bathrobe came out of the shadows of a row of bookshelves, her mouth twisted in fury. The librarian, Madam Pince, opened her mouth, obviously ready to tell her off, but the eighteen-year-old didn't give her a chance. She whipped out a sheet of parchment and waved it in front of Madam Pince. "I had special permission from Professor McGonagall!"

The librarian took the sheet of paper, studying it closely. She took out her wand and tapped the parchment, but nothing happened. The lady finally pocketed it, her sharp eyes darting from the books in front of the bushy haired girl to the shelves next to her.

"Well, go on, get out of here!" said Madam Pince. "It's past midnight!"

Holding in an exasperated sigh, Hermione slung her bag over one shoulder, grabbed her essay, and trudged out of the room. She looked over her shoulder before leaving and was not surprised to see the librarian bobbing around with the books that she had used, muttering under her breath.

"Probably telling her little books that they are safe," the bushy haired girl grumbled as she shut the door behind her. She stooped over and placed her bag on the cold, stone floor in order to put her rolled up essay in it. "Stupid, obsessive-compulsive librarians," she muttered as she started her march up to the seventh floor. She looked out a window as a fork of lightning split the dark sky in half. "How am I suppose to do my work with her breathing down my neck?"

The last flight of stairs came into view as she started to rant, "I wish there weren't so many stairs! Why couldn't they have some sort of magical escalator or something?"

She rounded a final corner and the portrait of a snoring Fat Lady in her familiar pink dress was before her.

"Glass slippers!" Hermione shouted. The portrait continued to snore. She marched up to the frame of the picture, tipped her head up, and tried again. "GLASS SLIPPERS!" It still didn't respond. "Gla!"

Just then, the portrait jumped forward, knocking the bushy haired girl off her feet. She looked up at the painting and saw that the lady had not broken the smooth rhythm of her snores.

"Hi, Hermione!" greeted a baritone voice.

"Ron?" she said with an air of suspicion as she got to her feet. In the hole hidden behind the portrait stood a tall, lanky red haired young man.

"How's it going?" he asked as he stepped back so she could enter.

"Okay," she muttered as she stepped into the dim common room. "Where's everyone else?"

"They're all in bed," he said without much thought. "Lovely weather, huh?"

She looked out the window. Rain was pouring down by the bucketful.

"All right, what did you do?" she asked in an exasperated tone, turning to face him.

"N-nothing," his voice broke slightly as he took a step away from her.

"_Ronald Bilius Weasley_!" she accented each name as she stomped toward the noticeably nervous person. "What did you _do_?"

He squeaked out an inaudible phrase. She got on the tip of her toes and glared into his eyes. He cleared his throat quickly, but the next words were still a few octaves higher than usual, "I accidentally burned your homework," he said in a rush, his nose quivering in fear, for he had good reason to cower under the infamous glare of Hermione Granger. "But it was an accident, honest! I was!"

"You—burned—my—home—work," she repeated jerkily.

"Yeah, but it's a funny story if you think about"

"You were going to copy _my_ homework?"

"Actually, I _did_ copy it. It's just that these second years were…" he faltered as her glare doubled in strength.

"Where is it?" she asked in a deathly whisper.

He pointed at the fireplace, his freckles stood out as the color drained from his face. She looked at the dying embers.

"You stupid, little idiot," she whispered. He took a step away, toward a window. "You little cheating, irresponsible moron," her voice gathered in volume as she turned back to him. "You dimwitted dolt."

Ron gulped as he braced himself for an explosion. This was usually expected from Harry, but Ron usually survived those little tantrums, but this…

"YOU AND YOUR STUPID WAY!" she erupted, bright red spots blinding her sight. "WHY CAN'T YOU DO ANYTHING RIGHT FOR A CHANGE! YOU ALWAYS COPY OFF ME AND I'VE HAD IT! I'VE HAD IT! WHY CAN'T YOU DO IT YOURSELF?" she kicked her foot out, trying to make contact with any part of his body.

"IT'S NOT FAIR! I ALWAYS HAVE TO DO THE WORK WHILE YOU AND HARRY GO OFF AND HAVE ADVENTURES! I HATE YOU!" She kicked again, her shoe flew off and the sound of glass breaking came to her ears.

"I. HATE. YOU!" She screamed as loud as she could. Her leg pivoted forward one last time and something cut through the fabric of her sock and pierced her skin. The pain that registered cleared her vision and there was Ron, a cut across his cheek, the window behind him, broken. The floor was littered with glass. A small crowd of Gryffindors stood off near the dormitories, all donning pajamas and unhinged jaws, shocked at what they just saw.

"What are you looking at?" she snapped as she stomped over to the girls' dormitory. The cluster shrank back from her as she stalked by, like she was radioactive or had a deadly disease of some sort.

When she was in the safety of her room, Hermione quickly undressed and got into her pajamas, wincing as she placed all her weight on her right foot when she was trying to get into her pajama shorts. Her roommates, Pavarti Patil and Lavender Brown, were already asleep as she limped onto her bed. Her foot's pain doubled as she examined it. It was a nasty gash that cut across part of her foot, still gushing with blood. Her head spun slightly as she grabbed a towel to stop the bleeding.

"This is not my day," she muttered as she fell back after securing the towel with a bit of Spellotape. She didn't even bother to get under her sheets as she fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

"Get up, sleepy head," said a voice. Hermione cracked an eye open to find two brunette girls giggling at her.

"C'mon, Hermione," said the one with a braid down her back, "Lavender and I are going down to the Great Hall for breakfast."

"And what happened to your foot?" asked Lavender Brown.

"I…stepped on a nail," Hermione answered groggily as she sat up in bed. She looked down and saw a bloodstained towel. "Do either one of you have a Band-Aid?"

"A what?" asked Pavarti.

"Here," Lavender crossed the room to her trunk and took out a first aid kit, "my parents wouldn't let me come here without one."

"Why?" asked Hermione.

"You know I'm a Muggle-born, right?" Hermione nodded before the other girl continued. "My dad's a doctor and he doesn't believe that magic should mix with medicine."

"Yeah, Madam Pomfrey could give him a run for his money," Pavarti giggled as she spoke of the nurse at the Hospital Wing who had cured many ailments that weren't known to the Muggle world.

"Erm, here," Lavender passed the kit to Hermione, eyeing the towel with distaste. "I faint at the sight of blood."

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes until the two left the room. She quickly busied herself, cleaning up the nasty gash with rubbing alcohol and a cotton ball. After that, she quickly bandaged it up before dressing for the day.

"Did you hear her last night?"

"Yeah, she was yelling at that Ron Weasley person."

"Must be that time of month."

"Yeah," another voice agreed. "Hey, are you going to Hogsmeade today?

Hermione stopped at the door of the bathroom and turned back to her bed. She pursed her lips as she sat on it and hugged her pillow. _They_ didn't know what it's like to be Hermione Granger, she thought bitterly as she stared at her reflection.

* * *

Hum, it's nice to write again. Really nice. But I dunno how long this one will last. I know for a fact that there WILL be another chapter, though, so I'll see how well that one'll go.

Okay, farfanugans of all ages, I ask you to review. Is it that hard? Send me some flames! I'm COLD (it's below freezing over here!). Or constructive criticism (my God, I need it!)

Okay, until next time, my little muffins. :Hands out slurpees:

The Insane Chikin Wang.


	2. Names and Mythologies

Seven shock tarts go to Zimagesto for reviewing! By the way, what DOES your penname mean? And, yeah, Bilius is Ron's middle name. I came across it on (best harry potter news website, EVER!). It was in an online interview/chat thingy with the awesome youngster, J. K. Rowling back in March…er, 4th or something in 2004 or something. It was the very last question, so that one kinda stuck, so…yeah. It also has Ginny and Hermione's middle names (Molly and Jane, respectively). And here's the next chappie for you, btw. I think I'll dedicate it to you, since you dedicated a whole story to me! (which is kinda not the same, but…um…I'm no good with dedications…:sigh:)

And thanks for the whole "don't put yourself down so much" pep talk! It just inspired me to go back and get the next chapter up three weeks in advance!

Oh, I know this fic makes no sense at all right now. I was just sitting in my room a couple of weeks ago and I was in a very "hermione-ish" mood and I kept ranting about how I always I have to do everyone's work and junk. It was…weird. Anyway, hopefully you'll be able to figure out what I'm doing soon. Probably after the third or fourth chapter. If I get that far, that is…

Disclaimer: I don't own harry potter. None of it. Noooooooooooooooooooone. And I don't own any Greek/Roman mythologies either. -that will be explained in the near future…

* * *

**_How She Came To Be…_**

**Chapter Two:  
**_Names and Mythology (1982)_

Dedicated to the great Zimagesto.

* * *

Three-year-old Hermione Granger giggled as she counted the shelves in her grandparents' study. 

"Theventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty," she pointed as she hopped past each shelf lining the walls, a slight lisp escaped her lips with each word that had the letter S in it, "twenty-one, twenty-two!" she turned to the center of the room. "Granny, Grandpa! You have twenty-two bookthelveth!"

"Oh, Horace, she can count to twenty-two!" Granny smiled wistfully as her granddaughter bounced over to her, the short, brown curls sprang back and forth as the little girl looked at the two with large, innocent eyes.

"I can count to…to…" Hermione thought for a minute. "A thouthand!"

"I'm sure you can, sweetie," said Grandpa as he lightly tapped his pipe on her head.

"I can! I can!" she broke into peals of laughter as her curls fell into a lively dance. Her grandfather grabbed her under the arms and swung her in the air. He stopped abruptly, wincing as he set her down on the hardwood floor.

"Whath the matter, Grandpa?" she asked.

"I'm getting a bit too old to throw you around, especially with my bad back," he said with a slight twitch as he rubbed his back.

"I'm thorry, Grandpa," she whispered, her eyes slowly glazed over as tears filled them.

"Oh, Hermione, dearie," Granny stooped over to give her only grandchild a hug, "it's not your fault. Anyway, maybe your grandpa'll think twice about throwing people around like a sack of potatoes now," Hermione giggled. "Now that's my Hermione," said Granny as she wiped the three-year-old's eyes with a handkerchief. "Now go read with Grandpa while I go get dinner ready."

"Okay, Granny," Hermione skipped over to her grandfather's armchair as her grandmother left the room. "What are you reading, Grandpa?"

"Just some mythology," he said as he patted the arm of his chair.

Hermione clambered up the arm and slid next to her gangly grandfather. "Whath a…a…" she wrinkled her eyes in concentration, "my-tho-lo-logy?"

"Mythology," he repeated with a hearty chuckle. "It's like a fairy tale, but they were once told by word and nobody wrote them down, so no one knows what the original version really was. They usually explain little things like why the Sahara Desert is a desert or why we have winter. They're not exactly true, though."

"Can I hear one?" she asked. Grandpa looked at the girl for a minute with a thoughtful expression. "Well, since it's snowing outside, I guess I could tell you about Demeter and Persophone and Hades."

"Okay."

And so the middle-aged man told her tale of the agricultural goddess Demeter, her daughter and the queen the Underworld, Persephone, and her husband and king of the Underworld, Hades.

"…And so Hades agreed to let Persephone, his wife, to visit Demeter, her mother, so that she would stop crying so that everyone would have warm weather and sunlight to grow things. They all agreed that Persephone would return toward the end of the year, when the harvest was over."

Hermione sat in awe. "Ith it true?"

"Well, no, like I said, myths have no scientific reasoning, but they're excellent things to read on a day like this," Grandpa waved his hand at the clumps of snow that fell past the window.

The girl looked down at the thick, leather-bound book opened in her grandfather's bony lap. She leaned over and tried to decipher the words, but could only recognize a handful at a time. Then she spotted a familiar eight-lettered word.

"Look, Grandpa!" she said excitedly as she pointed at the middle of the page. "Ith my name!"

"Ah, Hermione," a dreamy look filled the eyes of Grandpa. "Daughter of Helen and Menelaus. Supposedly as breathtaking as her mother. Oh, how I love that story."

"I'm the daughter of someone bethides Mummy and Daddy?" Hermione's eyes widened in shock.

"Oh, no, dearie," Grandpa quickly came out of his reverie as his granddaughter trembled with shock. "Your parents named you Hermione. The Hermione in this book is a completely different person."

"Oh," said the girl, but she still had her doubt. But Grandpa would never lie to her! Anyway, she wanted to hear another "my-tho-lo-logy". "Can I hear thith one?"

"Oh, no, dear, it's too long to tell in one sitting," Grandpa said as he got up and stretch, taking his body heat with him and causing the little girl to shiver slightly. "I'll tell it to you if it storms during one of your future visits."

"Promith?" she asked hopefully.

"I promise," Grandpa smiled at her. "Now, let's see what Granny's cooking up for us!"

"Okay!" Hermione clapped her hands as she slipped off the armchair and skipped out the room. Her grandfather quickly caught up to her, swinging her on his back as the two passed a few frosted windows, singing nonsense songs at the top of their lungs.

* * *

Okay, there's another chapter! I know, it's kinda short, but I think it's the shortest one of all. I really don't remember much about being three, so it's like…eh. And asking three-year-olds what it's like to be three can somehow manage to offend them -true story right there, by the way. 

Anyway, I think my author notes are actually longer than this whole chapter. Ha, how pathetic CAN I get? But I promise the next ones WILL be better (hopefully).

I'm sorry about the mythology reference. I've always been fascinated by them. And, according to all my literature teachers, "imagination is the first step to gaining knowledge". I guess it's gotta do with the whole "think outside of the box" junk. I dunno, maybe it could be foreshadowing Hermione's quest for knowledge. But I don't think I want her to be little miss perfect in this fic. Maybe take out the whole "obsessing over homework" thing (my god, I do that enough as it is…and my friend Zerena) and make her seem less…um…insane, spazzy geek…er, brainiac.

I'm rambling, aren't I?

Anyway. So. Liked it? Hated it? Want to pelt rotten tomatoes at me? Go ahead, review! (It sounds like a cheesy commercial, but okay).

'Til next time, my dear young muffins,

Farfanugans,

Chikin Wang


	3. Are you talking to me?

Thank you people SO much! I've been on a "review" high all week! Yes, those things actually exist (my drug reviews). YOU PEOPLE ARE THE BEST! I did the whole "silent screamo" thing for about an hour on Saturday night! THANK YOU SOOOOOOOOOOO MUCH!

And I promise to not apologize for everything I say, write, whatever. But…that may take a while…

Anyway…

Disclaimer: Okay, dude-person-thing-person-dude, if I DID own Harry Potter and if I WAS J. K. Rowling, do you seriously think I'd spaz for a straight hour because I got twelve reviews in two weeks? Yes, I'm pathetic, which goes to show you that I am NOT J. K. Rowling, the queen of fantasy literature.

**_

* * *

_**

**_How She Came To Be…_**

**Chapter Three:  
**_Are You Talking to Me? (1985)_

Dedicated to everyone that made me do my silent scream for a straight hour.

* * *

"Goodnight Hermione," Mrs. Granger whispered as she tucked the comforter under her six-year-old daughter's chin. "Are you _sure_ you don't want me to turn on your night light?"

"Mum," Hermione, whose lisp gone along with a front tooth, "I'm almost seven and I'm starting school tomorrow. I'm practically a grown up!"

Mum sighed as she played with one of her daughter's brown curls. "I suppose," she said slowly as she ducked down to give Hermione a quick peck on the cheek. "Goodnight."

"Now since you're all grown up," said a man a with a cap of sleek brown hair from his perch on the threshold of the bedroom door, "I suppose it's okay for me to give this to the neighbor's dog." He waved a stuffed otter before him.

"Daddy!" Hermione shrieked in horror, hopping up from her nest of blankets to grab her stuffed animal. "Not Olive!"

Dad chuckled, "I was kidding." He swung her up off the floor and onto the bed. Mum tucked her in again with a slightly irritated expression.

"Now, be a good _grown up_ and get a goodnight's sleep," he said as he brushed his lips on her forehead.

"Okay," she said in a high tone as her parents retreated to the door.

"And if the monsters come out, call me, and I'll come and kick them to the next universe," he added.

"_Christopher!_" Mum said warningly.

"I mean, I'll tell them to go away," Dad quickly corrected himself.

"Night, sweetie," Mum smiled.

"Night, night," Hermione waved.

"Anyway, how would you _beat_ it to the next universe?" she heard Mum ask as the door closed. "If my memory serves me right, _you_ were the one that squealed like a little girl when Hermione brought that lizard home last week."

"It was…I thought…!" Dad's sputters faded as thumps of feet going down a staircase echoed through the floorboards.

Hermione giggle quietly but quickly stopped. Now that the sound of her parents' voices was gone, darkness engulfed her, pressing against her eyes and ears. She pulled her blanket over her head and cowered in fear.

"Now, really, Hermione," she scolded herself, her eyes squeezed shut. "What would everyone at school think if they found out that you're still afraid of the dark?"

The floorboards squeaked in response. Something scraped across the window over the head of her bed.

"I'm not afraid," she whispered, her eyes shut tight. "I'm not scared of the dark. There are no such things as ghosts. The boogie monster does not exist. They're all just make believe…"

"You don't have to be afraid," said a voice to her left.

"_What?_" Hermione sat up, throwing the sheets back, ignoring the bubble of fear when darkness muffled her. She was the only person in the room. Gulping slightly, she darted her eyes around her shadowy room. "Hello?"

"Hello," the voice responded, slightly muffled.

"Wh-where are you?" she asked timidly, almost too afraid to ask.

"Under your arm."

"Under my?" Hermione threw the cover back. "_Olive?_"

"Hi," the thread of the otter's lips curved upwards as its head tilted up.

"But you're a—a—you're _alive?_"

"_Shh!_" the otter scurried up her arm and put a stuffed paw to her lips. "Don't tell anyone that I spoke to you, okay?"

Hermione nodded.

"You opened the window, by the way."

She looked up at the wall behind her where the scraping came from a few minutes ago. Sure enough, the window was up, puddles of moonlight staining the floor next to her.

"How did I…?

"Oh, you're a special one," Olive nodded. "My parents told me that I can only speak to those that are special."

"I know I'm special," Hermione said in knowing tone as she took the stuffed animal in her arms. "My parents tell me that all the time. Grandpa, too," she swelled with pride. "He says I'm smarter than most kids my age, but I have to work harder than everyone else tomorrow because I'm smart."

"No, not that kind of special," said Olive as she climbed up Hermione's arm.

"How many types of specials are there?" she asked, turning her head to watch the otter climb onto the windowsill.

"I don't know," it shrugged as it took a seat on the frame of the window. "But you're definitely as special as special can get." It turned and gestured a paw at the night's sky. "Now, why are you so afraid of night? It's just as pretty as day."

"No, I'm not afraid of the nighttime," Hermione said in a defensive tone. "It's…that," she waved at the shadows that surrounded her.

"Well, then don't look at it like that."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, confused.

"Look at the good side of things," said the stuffed otter. "Like darkness is good to hide in. And mean people will realize how dumb they are in ten years. And getting braces will straighten your teeth. And starting school will expand your horizons."

Hermione blinked. "You're pretty smart for a toy."

"Thanks, I think," the otter shifted slightly as Hermione got out of her bed and stood by the window. Once the girl was positioned next to the window, it asked, "Do you know anything about stars?"

She shook her head, "No, all I know is that they're certain names for groups of stars called constellations, or something like that."

"Yeah, that's right," a paw shot up in the air. "Look over there, that's Draco, and that one group over there, that's the Ursa Minor. And there's Pegasus, and Cassiopeia…"

* * *

"Hermione!" shrieked a voice. 

She sat up and was surprised to find herself sitting on the hard wood floor of her room. Sunlight now replaced the puddles of silver moonlight. Her mother was at the door, her eyes wide with shock, staring at the six-year-old.

"What is it, Mummy?" Hermione croaked as she said her first words of the day.

"Your toys," Mum said weakly.

The girl looked around to find her toys strewn about the room. They were patterned like…

"It wasn't a dream," she whispered to herself as she studied her building blocks that were arranged like the constellations of the previous night.

"Did you sleep at all last night?" asked her mother.

"I couldn't sleep because…" Hermione quickly trailed off; she was about to tell her mother about Olive. No way was she going to break her promise!

"You were worried about school?" Mum finished the sentence. Hermione nodded mutely. "Oh, honey, you'll do great! Now clean up your room and get ready."

Hermione nodded again as she scooped her dolls and building blocks up and threw then into her toy box. She then got into her uniform and grabbed her little book bag. She was about to leave the second floor landing when she remembered. After looking down the stairs to find her mother in the kitchen making breakfast, Hermione hurried back to her room, threw back the unmade covers and retrieved her favorite toy.

"I didn't tell her, Olive!" she whispered excitedly. "I kept my promise!"

The otter didn't respond.

"Olive?" she shook it slightly.

"Hermione, breakfast!"

"Coming!" she yelled as she quickly crammed the stuffed otter in her bag. _Maybe she's just tired_, she thought as she raced out of her room.

* * *

"Hi, Mrs. Granger, I'm Ms. Finilly," a young woman with a cap of sleek brown hair shook Mum's hand. "And this must be Hermione." 

Mum nodded. "That's our bright little girl."

"Well, since you're such a bright little girl," Ms. Finilly handed her a sheet of paper with 'Hermione' printed across it, "why don't you go into the cloakroom and pick out a cubby hole before your classmates arrive."

She nodded shyly as she took the sheet of paper. There was tape on the back.

"You can put your bag in there if you like," Ms. Finilly added.

She nodded again before leaving the room. There was a long row of square cubbyholes. Hermione picked the one closest to the door and put her sheet of paper across the top. She then took off her book bag and stuffed it into the square locker. She unzipped the bag and took out Olive.

"Wish me luck," she whispered as she gave it a quick squeeze before putting it back. She could almost swear that its smile widened as she put it back in the bag. But she didn't zip it back up. After all, it was alive.

* * *

Well, there you have it. Not exactly my best work, but that's 'coz I feel writer's block sneaking up on me again. Plus my English teacher's going all out evil and I have another essay due on Tues. Bleh. 

Actually, I'm surprised I even got this chapter typed up in less than a week. My skin's been acting up lately and it's slowly deteriorating or something. So now I have to wear gloves until the insanely cold weather goes away (even when I'm typing).

Anyway, enough about my skin problems. Did you like the chapter? Personally, I think it's just okay. And, yeah, I'll definitely make the next chapter better. DEFINITELY. But it'll be kinda sad, though. I'll definitely put more effort into it, especially since I know people are actually reading this thing now.

THANK YOUR PEOPLE SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MUCH FOR THE REVIEWS!

Here are a few responses to some of the reviews:

**Old-Crow**: Aw, thanks. I was going for something outta the ordinary! And I wub gwanpa!

**BlondieEmily**: Don't worry, I don't think I have enough energy to do another "spazzy Hermione". It IS weird and VERY OOC…but it was fun to write, so I didn't really care.

**Prin69**: Yes, I asked a 3 year old what it was like to be three. The poor kid wouldn't stop crying so I had to give all my fundraising candy to her… Yeah, being THE INSANE CHIKIN WANG can be a bit overwhelming at times…

**ProclainKiller**: YAY! My writing's not depressing! I'm sending out happy thoughts to everyone!

**Padfootlives101**: YAY! My fic's cute! I'll try to cut down on the number of times I apologize, honest! But, like I said, it'll take a while. By the way, your penname sounds like some college course…just saying, you know.

Maybe I should go back and write more about three-year-old Hermione. All of you loved her! It was…weird. But in a good way!

Okay, enough of the rambling-ness. Next chapter should be up in a week or so, if I'm lucky. Okay, gotta go read the Odyssey (HUGE amount MEH- and BLEH-ness).

Okay.

Until next time, my young muffins :hands out boxes of Kudos: YUM!

Farfanugans,

The artistically challenged Chikin Wang.


	4. Darkness Fell, Knowledge Shined Through

Okay, I was suppose to update last week, but then all my stupid classes decided to pile a HUGE load of projects on me.

Good news, though. English in finished with The Odyssey, so I'll celebrate by posting another chapter! Bad news: We're starting Romeo and Juliet right after Spring Break. Bleh…

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, I wouldn't have gone further than the second book 'coz I'm lazy like that

* * *

_**How She Came To Be...**_

**Chapter Four:  
**_Darkness Fell, Knowledge Shined Through…(1988)_

* * *

The phone rang. Nine-year-old Hermione rolled over to her side to look at her alarm clock. It was one o'clock in the morning. She groaned and punched her pillow. Didn't anyone tell those idiots that it was rude to call past nine? She grabbed her pillow and put it over her head as the phone rang again. She winced slightly as her one-month-old braces bit into the inside of her cheek.

"No consideration at all," she grumbled, pulling a stuffed otter to her face. It was the same one that spoke to her three years ago. Olive usually didn't speak unless Hermione was deeply sad or angry. One of its paws was tattered and bare. Her parents offered to give it to one of her younger cousins, but she refused to part with her dearest friend.

The _brrrrrrrrrrrring_ of the phone stopped in mid-ring. Dad's baritone voice rumbled through the hardwood floor, causing her to smile slightly. Dad's voice was just like Grandpa's, friendly and warm.

Suddenly, even through the floor, Hermione detected a change in tone. Dad called for Mum and there was a sharp edge in his voice—the voice that he used when one of his patients walked into the clinic with a piece of glass in jammed in his gum. She brought her head out from under the pillow and listened intently, trying to sort out the mumbles. She could only make out a word every once in a while, but it wasn't enough to understand what the two were talking about. She finally slid out of bed, Olive tucked under one arm, tiptoed to her door, and cracked it open slightly.

"…No, don't wake her," Dad's voice carried up the stairs.

"Are you sure you have to go? Mum asked nervously.

"Don't worry," Dad said as the jingle of colliding keys drifted to the second level and Hermione pulled the door open a bit more in time to catch sight of her parents in the foyer. "If I'm not back in a few hours, tell Rosaleen to cancel all my appointments."

Dad's tall figure pulled on a light jacket as he spoke in a would-be calm tone. Mum was behind him, shaking slightly. She reached forward and gave him a hug. The two stood together for a full minute.

"Send him my love," Mum whisper as she broke the embrace, wiping an eye.

"Don't worry," Dad said in a gruff tone as he pulled the door open, "he'll pull through. He's do it before."

The door clicked shut. Hermione quickly shut her bedroom door, too. Now she was sure something wasn't right, but she was torn. There was a major unit test in science the next morning and she really needed sleep. Then there was the mystery of the midnight phone call. She finally rolled back in bed. After all, she thought, Mum and Dad would have woken her if it were something important.

* * *

Her alarm went off and she immediately silenced it by thumping the off button groggily. It was another Tuesday morning. Another day of school. Another day to impress her teachers. Another day of being the smart one who was proud of being knowledgeable.

She was fastening the button of her skirt when someone knocked on her door.

"C'min," she said as she checked her bookbag to make sure she had all her books.

"Hermione?" Mum said in a mournful tone as she walked in. "You're not going to school today."

She whirled around, prepared to protest and plead her case, but the words caught in her throat as she looked at her mother. The normally rosy face was pale, brown eyes now red and swollen, and her clothes were wrinkled and stained.

"Mum, did you sleep at all last night?" was all that she could come up with.

"Your grandmother called last night," her mother said in a gentle tone. "Grandpa was in the hospital."

"Is he all right?"

"He," Mum's voice broke as her eyes glistened with tears. "He passed away right after your father arrived at the hospital last night.

Hermione froze. She watched as a tear fell out of Mum's eye. Grandpa was…

"No," she whispered numbly. "He can't be dead. He…" he's Grandpa. He _can't_ be dead. It's impossible.

"You're Granny's going to stay with us for a while," Mum continued in a choked tone as Hermione slowly lowered her body onto her bed. "Until…until…" she faltered, her lips trembling dangerously.

"He—he can't be dead," she said jerkily.

"I wish it were true," Mum said gently, drawing a knuckle across her cheek.

"Why?" she asked. "Why him? Why couldn't it have been someone else? He…he—!" Her words faded as a lump surged up her throat. She bit it back, pushing it down to her stomach. She was not going to cry. She was not going to cry. She was not…

Too late. Like a geyser, the lump gathered momentum and exploded as it rose. She broke into violent tears, sobbing without restraint. Mum's arms entwined her and the two rocked back and forth until the stream of tears dried and the sobs became sniffles.

"It's not fair," the nine-year-old whispered into her mother's shoulder.

"I know, I know," came the comforting words. The grief stricken pair sat there.

* * *

Hermione lay in bed that night. She didn't want to sleep. She couldn't.

"Are you all right?" asked a small voice.

She smiled slightly, lifting the cover to find her slightly worn stuffed otter gazing at her curiously. Her smile faded as she replayed the day in her mind. "Grandpa died today."

The otter made a sympathetic sound and wrapped its stuffed paws around her neck.

"I wish I could talk to you all the time," said the girl as she sat up.

"I do too, but rules are rules."

"What rules?" asked Hermione as the paws came loose and the otter scurried across the bed.

"Something about powers and such," Olive said uncertainly. "I don't exactly remember, but I think that I can only talk to people when there's a special power going on or something."

"Oh," said Hermione, but she was still confused.

Someone knocked on the door. "Hermione? Are you talking to someone?"

"No, Dad," she answered, wriggling into her blankets, "just me."

Footsteps sounded and the two waited until they faded. Olive skipped across the bedspread. "Do you need anything?"

"No, just a friend," she said, giving the stuffed otter a slight squeeze before falling asleep.

* * *

"He was a loving father and will be missed by all who knew him," the minister droned as Hermione stood near her beloved Grandpa's burial site. She was standing the farthest away, trying to erase the image of Grandpa-in-the-coffin. Her two younger cousins, both less than five years of age, clutched their parents' hands. Mum and Dad stood next to Granny. Grandpa's friends were also present. Everyone stood in silence.

She stole away from the group. This was not how Grandpa wanted it. He never seemed serious enough to die. She walked to the edge of the cemetery where the old tombstones lay. Withered flowers sat before the headstones, weeds slowly creeping up the sides. This was what Grandpa's grave would look like after she…died.

She shuddered. Death. The dark shadow of unknown. Those who went never came back. Ever.

She looked back at the group clad in black. Her eyes stung with tears. She wished she could hear his voice one more time…

* * *

"Here you go," Granny set a thick black book before her eldest granddaughter. "Your grandfather…wanted me to give it to you."

"Thank you," Hermione whispered as she looked that the thick black book. She traced the golden heading. Mythology.

Granny turned to leave the room.

"Granny," she called after her. The widow stopped and turned around. "Can I stay with you during Easter Break next week?"

"I would like that?" the middle-aged woman smiled slightly before closing the door behind her.

Hermione opened the book and out fell an envelope. Her name was printed across it in a shaky handwriting. She broke the seal and took out a sheet of paper. The handwriting was also unsteady, but she could still make out the words.

_Dear Hermione,_

_I'm sure you don't remember, but you were once interested in mythology. I was suppose to tell you about the Trojan War, but I never did find the time. I'm sorry. You may read it now, if you wish. I marked the pages with blue to let you know where it is._

_I'm leaving you now, but I'm not really gone, Hermione. I'm still there. And not just in the minds and hearts of everyone that I know. I'm not as far as you think. Death is something you should embrace. It's the unknown that makes life worth living. When we are alive, we live and prepare for the day that we die. If something is veiled then it is something worth looking at. When you don't understand something, always go beyond the boundaries of what you know and add as much to your pot of knowledge as you possibly can. If you think you have acquired all the knowledge that you can possibly retain, you are deeply mistaken. There is no such thing as too much intelligence._

_When you have realized that, then you can make a difference. Start with a book. Then another. And another. But don't always build on what other people say. Experience it for yourself._

_There's something about you that others don't understand. Use that to become who you were born to be._

_Love always,_

_Grandpa._

"I will Grandpa," she said fiercely as she drew the back of her hand across her face in an angry fashion. She didn't have to cry anymore. She now knew what she had to do.

She turned to the book and, sure enough, there was blue across one part of the book. She opened the book to the proper section and found that it was about one hundred pages long. Shaking her head slightly, she set it aside. This could wait for another day.

* * *

Yay, I finished another chapter! 

Responses to reviews:

**Prin69**: Yeah, Olive talked to her! I used to wish MY stuffed animals would come to life too! I had this stuffed squirrel and I used to talk to it. My parents thought I was insane, but okay. Thanks you SOOOOO much for the review! It was deeply appreciated!

**Padfootlives101**: Aw, it's okay you didn't review right away! It's the teachers practicing their evil powers and just loading us down with all this homework thisclose to spring break! Ergh, I HATE the third quarter! It's the slowest quarter of the year! Thanks for the review! Yeah, I'm cutting back on the apologizing (can't quit cold turkey, though…) thanks for pointing that out!

Okay. So. Liked it? Have little suggestions? Hated it? Want to throw owl pellets at me? Drop a review! And, please, if you have excess anger, I'll take it! Flames are…interesting. Just REVIEW, okay? Um…please:hands out bags of gummy worms:.

Until next time, my little muffins,

Farfanugans,

Chikin Wang.


	5. Diaries and Sleepovers

I can't believe it's been over three weeks since I last updated! Scary, really.

I kinda got stuck after the last chapter, so I stared at my outline for a while. Then I had this "brilliant" idea to stick in an extra chapter. Only problem was that it completely interfered with my original plan (I was gonna write little anecdotes that skipped every three years to show how Hermione changes over the years). So the original outline went out the window and I had to rewrite the whole outliney thingy for the last two chapters.

Oh, and guys, Chicago is a beautiful city! ----------------------that's where I was last week when I was suppose to put in this chapter!

Disclaimer: Nope, not at all…

* * *

**_How She Came to Be…_**

**Chapter Five:  
**_Diaries and Sleepovers (1991)_

* * *

The eleven year old Hermione Granger stifled a yawn as she gazed around the restless classroom as she took a break from taking notes. It was the alst day of the schoolyear and the aged English instructor was droning about personal writings.

"Most people keep a journal or diary to make notes about their day to day life. Some see it was a fun way to remember things by, but most do this in order to relieve their minds of the stress and events that take plac-e so they no longer have to play it over and over again in their heads.

"But some people go beyond the boundaries of the paragraph form of writing. Some turn their events into short stories, analyzing it from all sides. For those that have little time, they copy it down in script form. An extremely interesting form is poetry since it shows the writer's feelings about the outcomes of the day in a few lines."

The bell rang and Hermione threw her notebook into her empty bag before hurrying out the classroom, bidding the frowning teacher a quick farewell. She wrinkled her eyebrows, remembering what the teacher said.

"Hey, Hermione!"

She whirled around, her eyebrows flying up in alarm. It was Danielle Reeves, the most popular girl in the school, who constantly begged Hermione for the answers to the homework.

The pretty dark haired girl held out a lavender envelope with words written in glitter. "Here," she thrust it into Hermione's hand, grinning widely to reveal her straight, pearly white teeth. "Hope to see you tonight!" And then she was gone, weaving through the thring of ecstatic students.

The crowd pushed her to the front entrance and she cut across the lawn, opening the envelope with a shaking hand. Inside was a colorful card with "Get ready to party!" scrawled across the top in glitter. She opened it.

_Tonight at Danielle Reeves' house!_

_Bring a sleeping bag and get ready for loads of FUN!_

_RSVP at 515.6689_

Hermione threw her hands up in the air and squealed with glee. Ignoring the stares from those around her, she raced home to pack her duffel bag.

* * *

Hermione bounced on the balls of her feet nervously as she rang the doorbell to a pretty, white, two-story house. The black, glossy door creaked open and a lady with Danielle's sleek dark hair in her early thirties appeared, a phone attached to one ear.

"Hello, dear, are you here for Danielle's party?" asked Mrs. Reeves.

Hermione nodded as she adjusted the strap of her bag.

"Come in, come in," said Mrs. Reeves, motioning Hermione in. She stepped in and the door swung shut. "No, no, no! I said _six_ bolts of champagne colored material."

Hermione looked up in alarm but breathed a sigh of relief to find Mrs. Reeves growling into her phone angrily.

"No, I don't want you order six more, I need six in all!" A huffy pause. "You dolt! Do I have to do everything around here?" Another pause, equally stiff. "I don't care if you have to stay the night! Just get the job done!"

Hermione winced as Mrs. Reeves stalked into the kitchen, dialing another number as she went.

Something thumped down the stairs and Danielle Reeves came into the living room, followed by three older girls.

"Oh, hi, Hermione," said Danielle as she played with her wavy hair. "I'm glad you came! You know my friends, right?"

Hermione nodded. Of course she knew Danielle's entourage. Molly, the prettiest girl in the school with her shiny blonde hair. Amber, the snotty girl with greasy black hair who manipulated others to do whatever she said. Kelsey with her proud nose and stringy red hair, who was the eldest. All of them were dressed in trendy skirts, her hair tucked up in loose ponytails, and donning colorful, frilly shirts. Hermione cringed slightly as they looked down at her. She had on her favorite jeans and T-shirt, both slightly worn but comfortable, though they didn't feel as nice as they did when she put them on. She felt her wildly bushy hair, running her hand over the locks, trying to smooth them down.

"Well, you'll do, I suppose," said Kelsey, her infamous nose struck upward.

She winced again. This was not how she pictured it. The four of them stood in silence.

"C'mon up to my room," Danielle said after the awkward pause, motioning for her to go up the stairs. "We're getting ready to have dinner."

"Oh, okay, thanks," said Hermione as she followed Danielle up the blue carpeted steps. The first door on the right was open and revealed a room full of stuffed animals, frilly sheets, comforters, and pillowcases, and some of the most expensive clothes she'd ever seen. "You've got a great house," she said, setting her bag on the floor along with her dark green sleeping bag.

"Yeah, I know," said Danielle as she led the way back down the stairs.

* * *

"I can't believe you guys!" said Danielle, as she picked some cheese and butter out of her hair. "We're not playing truth or dare at my dinner table anymore!" she grabbed a bundle of clothes. "I'm taking a shower. Don't kill each other before I'm back, okay?" She left with a scowl on her face. A macaroni elbow fell to the floor as the door slammed shut.

"Look what I found," said Kelsey, Danielle's best friend of six years, as she waved a glittery pink notebook in the air. The other girls squealed in delight.

"What's that?" asked Hermione, sitting on her rolled out sleeping bag.

"Just a book with all of Danielle's secrets in it," said Amber as she ran a hand through her greasy hair, a smirk spread across her pinched face.

"But if it's Danielle's—-!" started Hermione.

"Listen to her, 'But if it's Danielle's…!' " Molly mimicked the former. "It's not like we're hurting anyone."

"Ooo!" piped in the last of the three, Molly—pretty, perfect Molly who would look good no matter what— "Let's read it!"

Hermione tucked her feet under her, pulling her knees to her chest. All three of them were prettier, taller, and better dressed than her. Anyway, they all knew Danielle better. But she still felt guilty as she watched the three gather around the open book.

" 'December 7th,' " recited Kelsey as she flung her dull red hair over a shoulder. " 'I _loooove_ Matthew Bakers! I think he likes me too! I could _not_ take my eyes off him during science today!' "

"Pathetic," said Amber as she took the book. " 'January 27th, I got my first period!' "

The three girls burst out laughing. Hermione sat there, horrified at the display of cruelty. After the piercing giggles subsided, Molly shook her shining blonde mane and turned a few dozen pages. " 'April 9th, Mum and Dad were arguing again. It was about me and Lindsey. I'm really scared. What if they get a divorce? I don't want to live with just Mum or just Dad. This is horrible! What am I going to _do_?' "

"How _pathetic!_" Amber rolled her eyes.

"I _know!_" Kelsey and Molly said in unison.

"Here, your turn," said Molly as she handed the book to Hermione.

"I-I don't want it," she stammered, refusing to touch the forbidden book.

"Aw, c'mon, Little Miss Perfect," said Amber with a menacing leer.

"I am _not_ perfect!"

"Prove it," taunted the stringy haired girl.

Hermione glared at her. She should _not_ have come. So what if Danielle _was_ the most popular girl in the school? The only reason the poor girl passed the year was because Hermione gave her the answers to her homework. And at least Hermione knew who to not hang out with…!

She shut her blazing eyes, willing Danielle to come in and see what her so-called friends were doing. Nobody, not even the girl who only spoke to her for the answer to assignments, had the right to have people like these for close companions. No one.

Someone shrieked loudly.

Hermione's eyes flashed open in time to see the pink diary fall to the floor before her, the cover quickly consumed by the hungry flames. She gasped horror and grabbed the leather jacket next to her in order to smother the blaze.

"What happened?" she asked, coughing as smoke filled the room.

"That's my favorite jacket!" screeched Amber, tearing the material out of Hermione's hands. "You're going to _pay_ for this!"

"But what happened?" Hermione asked again, looking around for the source of the fire.

"It-it just caught on fire," said Kelsey, whose eyes were still wide with horror. "You just closed your eyes and it—it—"

"_What?_"

"You're a witch!" Molly said breathlessly, an accusing finger pointed at Hermione.

"_What?_" she said in a louder tone, disbelieving what she just heard.

The door swung on. The person at the door started to cough.

"Did you guy start a bonfire?" asked Danielle after her fit of coughs ended.

"She did it!" Amber also pointed an accusing finger at Hermione. "She was reading your journal to us—mind you, we tried to stop her, but she just kept going. I _tried_ to take it away, but she just _looked_ at me and closed her eyes and my _jacket_ caught on fire! Then she did the little witch blink thing again and your _journal_ caught on fire!"

"That's a lie!" said Hermione as she glared at the Amber and her evil, greasy head.

"Oh no you don't!" said Amber, dodging to one side. "_You're_ not blowing me up, you little witch!"

Danielle was shaking with fury. "You—read—my—diary? _MY DIARY?_"

"No, it wasn't me it was—!" Hermione began, pointing at the other three.

"It _was_ you!" said Kelsey. "It was! It was!"

"I can _not_ be_lieve_ my Mum made me invite you!" shrieked Danielle.

Hermione was stunned. "What?"

"That's right," snarled the dark-haired girl. "My dear mummy found out that you were giving me all the answers to the assignments. I should have known something was up because my Mum usually doesn't care about where I get my answers from as long as I pass the year. Then she told me that I _had_ to invite you over to say thanks."

Molly burst out laughing. The once pretty twitter now sour and acidic, biting into Hermione's innocent eardrum. "Look at her, she _actually_ thought a freak like her was a friend of _ours_!"

The other three also cackled, the notorious giggles reddened our heroine's face and sent sad tingles down her spine.

Kelsey leaned forward and whispered in her nasty, evil voice, "Freaks like you are only good for project topics."

"I should have _known_ that you would try to pull something like this!" growled Danielle. "Makes sense doesn't it? You, always giving me the answers? I should have known that you were going to dig up some dirt and ruin my reputation!"

"Aw, look at the little baby cry," sneered Amber.

Hermione, who had been sitting in silence, put a hand up to her cheek in time to catch the stream of tears. Quick as a lightning, she scooped her bag up and ran out the perfect room, down the perfect stairs, through the perfect hall (ignoring Mrs. Reeves' curious stare) and out the perfect door and into the world of imperfection. The world where she could make a difference. Her feet pattered on the concrete of the sidewalk as she disappeared into the slowly setting sun.

* * *

"I'm never going back there," she whispered, folding a sheet of tear-stained paper,

"Was it that bad?" asked Olive as she perched on Hermione's shoulder.

She nodded, but didn't say anything. She was not going to recount the humiliating experience again. She opened the black book and turned to the first page of the highlighted section that told of the Trojan War. She still had yet to read it. She tucked the poem that she wrote between the first and second page of the section before closing it.

"I'm glad I didn't tell Mum and Dad where I was going," she told her best friend.

"Are you sure you're going to be all right?"

"Yeah," said Hermione.

She cried herself to sleep that night.

* * *

_Three weeks later…_

* * *

The doorbell rang. Hermione looked out the window of her room and her eyebrows flew up in alarm. There was a middle-aged man with a wild tuft of white hair and he was wearing an emerald green robe!

_Maybe it's a door-to-door salesman?_ she thought to herself as she settled back with another book.

For the past three weeks, Hermione shut herself in her comforting bedroom and read to her heart's content. She did not wish to be the "freak" that Danielle and her group accused her of. When her parents asked where she was on the night she was at the Reeves' residence, she told them that they invited her to dinner. She never mentioned the fact that it was suppose to be a party or that the girls accused her of a crime that she did not commit.

Or didn't mean to commit…

"Hermione!" Mum's voice floated up the stairs, a slight edge in her tone. Hermione marked her spot with her favorite bookmark (a thin piece of white cardboard with all her favorite books written across it in colors) and left her room.

The man with the emerald robes was in the foyer, looking around with interest. Mum and Dad were home (it was a Sunday) and stood at the bottom of the steps, reading a yellow sheet of parchment paper.

"What is it?" she asked, looking around in confusion.

Mum looked up with a strange look on her face as though she couldn't figure out how to tell someone that they were going to have to remove all four of the person's molars. "Dear, I…we…"

"You're a witch?" Dad asked in disbelief.

Her face colored. "No, it's not like that at all! It was that friend of Danielle's, Amber what's her name, she told Danielle that I was a witch, but I'm not! I don't know how the stupid book caught on fire! I didn't—!"

"_What?_" said the parents in unison.

Hermione look from one to the other, her beet red face darkened to an unhealthy shade of purple.

The man at the door cleared his throat loudly. "Miss…er…Granger, my name is Albert Rumsduffer from the Ministry of Magic, Department of Education," he whipped out another envelope with green writing from his robe. "You have been accepted into Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"What?"

He held the envelope out and she took it with a shaking hand. She turned it over and slit the flap open with her fingernail. A heavy sheet of parchment fell into her hand. She unfolded it.

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on September 1. We a wait your owl by no later than July 31._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

"I'm a freak," she whispered.

"No, you're one of the few privileged children of this world who have the power to be different," said Mr. Rumsduffer. "If it is all right with everyone here, I would like to take you to purchase your school supply."

"May we come?" asked Dad.

"Of course," said Mr. Rumsduffer in an absent manner as he led them out of the house.

* * *

"And this is Flourish and Blotts," said Mr. Rumsduffer as he waved his hand at a large bookstore tucked next to an apothecary and a cauldron store. Hermione looked in and saw rows upon rows of books.

"Can we go in?" she asked, turning to her parents.

"Of course," said the adults.

Bubbling with laughter, she ran into the store and brushed her hand on the leather bound books. This was heaven, row of books that she'd never heard of. She grabbed a random book and smiled. _Famous Witches and Wizard of the Twentieth Century_.

"I'm so glad I'm me," she whispered, hugging the book to her chest.

* * *

BWUAH-HA! DONE! Kinda….

That was a really hard chapter. I hope you all liked it! (Amber, Kelsey, Danielle, and Molly aren't going to appear again…I don't think. But I don't really know right now) Again, it wasn't planned, so yeah. I'll get right back on track after this chapter.

Responses to reviews:

**Prin69**: Aw, thanks! I thought the whole little brief speech of Olive's was a huuuuge accomplishment for me and I'm soooooooooo glad you like it! And my chapter was cute! Sad and cute…an interesting combination…huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuum ------------I feel like Yoda…

**Padfootlives101**: Here:hands padfootlives101 a kleenex: I'll give you a hug too, if you want! But I'm not the hugging type so… I hope this chapter wasn't as sad as the last one! You're reading "Romeo and Juliet" too! Actually, I'm gonna start reading it soon, but still! And, yes, it IS quite a coincidence. Thanks for reading!

**PatronSaintOfEverythingWierd**: Oh, I didn't mind at all! Plus, the third quarter of the school year's usually the toughest 'coz the teachers are freaking evil, loading us down when we're REALLY tired. And I wrote more! Don't blame a sudden bought of depression on me, please?

C'mon, guys. Drop a review or two, please! I'll love you forever! Plus I don't think it'll take me that long to update if a comment or two is left behind!

Until next time, my little muffins,

Farfanugans,

Chikin Wang.


	6. Home Sweet Home?

YAY! It's Spring Break! I was gonna put a chapter up last week, but I was catching up on my sleep, so…yeah, didn't really bother there…

Okay. So.

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to harry potter. Nope.

* * *

**_How She Came To Be…_**

**Chapter Six**:  
_Home Sweet Home?(1992)

* * *

_

Dad set her trunk down next to her bed.

"Thanks, Dad," said Hermione who no longer had braces.

"We're glad you're home," he said, giving her an one-armed hug.

"Me too," she said, looking around her room with a content expression.

"I'll let you unpack while your mother and I get dinner ready," said Dad, cracking a smile. Hermione also grinned; Dad couldn't cook a proper meal even if his life depended on it. "Have fun unpacking," he said as he left the room.

"Have fun cooking," she called after him. She shut the door and examined her room in a closer fashion. Her satisfied expression faded. Something was missing.

"It's probably because all my books are in my trunk," she comforted herself as she undid the clasps of her trunk. The chest popped open and she took out her many textbooks and put them along the bookshelf next to her desk, which was littered with parchment from when she visited back in December.

After her trunk was emptied, her room dusted, the homework assignments set on her desk in the order that she was going to complete them in, Hermione stepped back and surveyed the room. "I still feel like something's missing," she muttered, squinting around. Her eyes rested on the pillows of her bed for a moment, taking in the under water pattern. It seemed empty. Then it hit her.

"No," she whispered, jumping to her bed and ripping everything off. She them flew to her closet. It wasn't there either. She turned her empty trunk over. Nothing.

"_Mum! Dad!_" she yelled sprinting down the stairs. "Have you seen Olive?"

"Who?" asked Dad, who was reading the newspaper as Mum shredded some lettuce.

"My stuffed otter," she said slowly as her stomach sank to the floor.

"Oh, we gave that to the old toy drive after you went back to school," he said without looking up from his paper.

"You gave her away?" she repeated and took a step back.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, but we thought that since you're a witch, you wouldn't mind if we gave it to someone that didn't have as many good fortunes as you," Mum said as she set the head of lettuce down to come to her twelve year old daughter.

Hermione looked from one parent to the other. _What happened?_ she wondered as her mother gave her a quick hug before turning back to her lettuce. She left the room, her shoulders slumped forward. Everything was so different. Why were they so different? When did her parents change?

She walked into her room and threw her sheets back on the bed half-heartedly. Maybe it wasn't her parents. Maybe _she_ was the one that changed…

Her hand formed into a fist. She brought it up and punched the headboard of her bed. It cracked and sparks flew out. She grabbed her bag, stuffing a few things in it before leaving her room. The clock struck six. She paused at her doorway, thought for a moment, and went back to write a quick note. She then slipped down the stairs and out the front door, careful to shut it quietly.

"Hi Hermione!" an old neighbor greeted as he got out of his car. "How was your new school?"

"All right," she said with a forced smile.

"Have a nice evening," he said before letting himself into his house.

"You too," she replied. As soon as the door swung shut, she broke into a run. The cemetery was only a few miles away and she knew a short cut that would cut the run in half.

* * *

"Hi, Grandpa," she said to the familiar headstone. Weeds now surrounded it, little irritating plants inching up the sides of the granite marker. "I have so much to tell you."

She set a bouquet of daisies and ferns that she bought on the way over on the grave. Then she took a deep breath to collect her thoughts.

"I found out I am a witch about a year ago. I remember how you said I always have to study to understand life and how I need to experience it for myself in order to understand what other people are talking about. I was the top of my year!" she smiled slightly as she took a seat next to the tombstone. "But I let myself slip a bit after Halloween," she looked at the ground guiltily, but quickly brightened. "That was when I met my two best friends: Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. Actually, I met them before then, but they weren't my friends at the time.

"They're both amazing. Harry was the little baby wizard that stopped the Darkest wizard of all time from taking over the world. Ron's really funny, you'd like him a lot. He doesn't really like to work, though, but he's really smart! He just doesn't try as hard as he should," she scowled slightly.

"Anyway, I just got back from my first year. It was the best year of school I've ever had! I wish you were there when that wizard told Mum and Dad that I was a witch!

"About a week ago, Harry had to fight the Dark Wizard again. We call him You-Know-Who, but his proper name is…V-Voldemort," she cleared her throat. "Nobody says his name except Harry.

"Anyway, You-Know-Who was trying to rise up again by getting one of our teachers, Quirrel (he taught Defense Against the Dark Arts, but he wasn't very good at that) to steal this stone for him. It had the Elixir of Life, which makes the drinker immortal, but you probably already know that. The stone was hidden in our school and the three of us heard that one of the teachers was trying to steal it, but we thought it was the Potions teacher, Snape. But the three of us tried to get it before Quirrel did. Ron and I had to stay behind because only one person could enter the final chamber because of the black fire."

She looked at the headstone before her and could almost picture Grandpa's wrinkled old face listening to her. She cracked a smile, "I'm not making much sense, am I?" she sighed.

"The reason I came down here tonight was because Mum and Dad gave my stuffed otter away. I know I'm too old to play with toys, but it wasn't just a toy!" Hermione darted her eyes sheepishly. "She spoke to me. I know it sounds like I'm crazy, but it's true. She was my only true friend until I met Harry and Ron. I suppose that's why I left her behind, you know, when I was packing to go back to school during Winter Break. I had people who didn't just speak to me when they needed the answers to the homework." She cracked a slight smile, "Actually, Ron does that, but we talk about other things, too.

"But it wasn't fair for those two to just give her away! She was _my_ stuffed otter for over seven years! I wish you were here to tell them that."

Only the chirp of crickets responded. She took out a worn black book.

"I still have it," she said, flipping through the pages as she reached for her flashlight. "I even took it to Hogwarts."

She sat back, leaning to one side so that she was hugging the headstone slightly. She then turned the pages to the story of Athena and Arachmide and read it aloud, brushing the worn pages lovingly.

* * *

"_Hermione!_"

The book of mythologies fell out of her lap as she jerked awake. She sat up and rubbed her eyes to refocus her vision.

"_This_ is where you've been all this time?" Mum ran to her, her eyes blazing, her brown ringlets glistening in the small light of two flashlights. "Do you have any idea how worried we've been?"

"I left a note," she said groggily as she looked at her watch. It was eight o'clock.

Dad lifted the portable light up slightly as he held a scrap of parchment before him, "Gone to see Grandpa," he read aloud before crumbling it up and throwing to the ground. "We thought you killed yourself!"

Hermione blinked. "I…I didn't mean…"

"We're going home!" Mum announced as she hauled her daughter to her feet.

"Wait…" Hermione stooped over and scooped the bit of parchment off the ground. "Bye, Grandpa," she whispered as her parents waited impatiently. She straightened up and waved the crumpled parchment slightly, "Don't want to litter."

Her parents didn't even crack a smile.

The drive home seemed endless and was excruciatingly uncomfortable with an unpleasant silence. Never had her parents been so angry with her. She shifted slightly in her seat, imagining how frantic they must have been for the past couple of hours.

_Serves them right, too_, a voice in the back of her head piped in, but she quickly shut it out.

The car lurched to a stop on their driveway, but nobody moved to get out.

"We're very disappointed in you, young lady," Dad said as he turned the ignition off. She looked at her knees guiltily. "Why didn't you tell us where you were going?"

"I was—I mean, I needed to see something that was still there."

"What?" said both her parents, confused.

"I thought you two were turning against me because I'm a witch."

"What would make you think that?" Mum asked in a baffled tone.

"You gave Olive away."

"_What?_" Dad swerved around in his seat and squinted his eyes, disbelieving what he just heard.

"My stuffed otter. You gave her away."

Dad turned back around and his shoulders shook slightly.

"Dad?"

He roared with laughter. The other two stared at him.

"That's _it_?" he chuckled. "This whole mess was about a _stuffed animal_?"

"SHE WASN'T JUST A STUFFED ANIMAL!" she shouted. She pursed her lips and sat back. "I'm sorry. It's just that. She was my only friend before I started to go to Hogwarts."

"Well, then, if you feel that way, I don't think you should go back to that school," said Mum.

"What?" said Hermione.

"Oh, Amy, let the girl go," said Dad as he wiped his eyes with a handkerchief.

Mum glared at him before turning back to her daughter. "And what do you mean you didn't have any friends aside from Olive (who, by the way, is an inanimate object)? What about Danielle and her little group?"

"Exactly," Hermione waved her hand at Mum, "'Danielle and her little group'. I wasn't part of her"—She brought her hands up and formed invisible quotation marks—" 'little group'. The only reason she spoke to me was because she wanted the answers to her homework and when her mum found out, she made Danielle invite me to her stupid sleepover!"

Mum looked at her, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Mum, I'm _sure_," she sighed. "Please let me go back? You met Ron and his family! And you still need to meet Harry. They're the best friends anyone can possibly ask for!"

"Oh, Amy, when have you ever heard her talk about her friends like that?" asked Dad as he motioned his hand at his daughter. "I think it's quite an improvement; at least she isn't holed up in her room pouring over an encyclopedia. That's just not normal behavior for a human being!"

_Am I invisible? _thought Hermione as she looked at Dad with a slightly hurt expression.

"This!" Dad continued, waving his hands around enthusiastically. "This is the normal behavior of a normal girl! Talking about her friends and guys—-!"

"_Dad!_" Hermione said in a horrified tone.

Mum raised her hands in defeat, "Okay, she can go back."

Hermione threw her arm around her mother's shoulders and headrest. "Thank you!"

Mum reached back and tweaked Hermione's nose, "He's right, though, you're much happier than you've ever been."

"And we're sorry for giving away Olive without your permission," Dad added.

Her heart sank. Olive was gone. She was really gone…

* * *

Okay! Another chapter, finished! If my calculations are correct, I think I only have two more left. sniffle bittersweet moment…

Um…yeah. I promise I'll shut up about the talking stuffed animal in the next chapter, but I loooooove Olive! I love Grandpa, too, but he had to go 'coz I didn't know who else to kill off. Plus, having the power to kill a random person off is…scary and satisfying all at the same time. Hum…hope I don't become one of those people that just will others to die 'coz they're just there…

Okay. So. Yeah. Um. Okay. I mean, er…review. Please? Or just sit there and face my wrath when I come back! Er…my infamous eye glare? My pathetic excuse for claws? My…disturbingly strange fear of wrists and necks…?

Dude, I need to work on my threatening skills…

Okay, so…just drop a review, It'll REALLY make my day!

Good day my young muffins,

Farfanugans,

Chikin Wang.


	7. What Will Come, Will Come

I think I confused everyone with the last chapter that I uploaded…It wasn't a repost, I stuck in a new chapter five…ah…well…

New chapter now! And I'll get it right this time, I promise!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter equalsJ. K. Rowling's genius equalsnot mine.

* * *

**_How She Came to Be…_**

**Chapter VII:**

_What Will Come, Will Come (1994)

* * *

_

Hermione, now age fifteen with relentlessly bushy hair (unless a generous amount of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion was applied), perched on a large boulder next to the giant lake in front of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A group of second years giggled and shrieked as they splashed and swam a few feet away from her. She ignored them as she stared at the horizon.

Who knew all this would happen? Ron was up in the Gryffindor tower, playing chess with Harry. Nobody in the school really knew about what happened after Harry and Cedric Diggory reached the Triward Cup, except Dumbledore and the select few that Harry opened up to.

She clenched her hands into tight fists. It was the stupid Triward Tournament. It wasn't fair. If the stupid tournament wasn't reinstated, then You-Know-Who would not have gotten his hands on Harry and used his blood to make a body. A body that was no longer affected by the invisible force that Harry's mother left to protect him.

She relaxed her arm muscles. No, it wasn't the tournament. She sighed, her head tilted forward dejectedly. It was bound to happen sooner or later. You-Know-Who was back. It was just a bit sooner than anyone expected.

And the Ron business this year! One minute he was her best friend, fun, insane, sidekick Ron, but the next minute…he was a completely different person. No, that wasn't right. _She_ saw him in a different light. And Victor Krum? He was older than her by three years and noticed her before all the boys in her year put together! What happened to a normal life? What happened to destroying evil and living in peace for all eternity? What happened to being able to predict every move that the rest of the world made? Life was so complicated.

"That's a fake life," she murmured under her breath. But, still, she liked being ahead of everyone else. Which was why she liked school. The only people that die or do anything unpredictable were already dead, so it didn't matter. All she had to do was read each textbook thoroughly and understand it before anyone else did. But…

Life wasn't a game of winners and losers. It was a journey that everyone took that went to the same place; some just got there earlier than others.

"Herm-own-ninny?" came a gruff voice.

She looked up and was surprised to find the renowned Quidditch star on the deck of the Durmstrang ship, looking at her. He looked down at her with a strange expression. "Are you all vight?"

"Hi, Victor," she greeted with a slightly forced smile.

There was an awkward pause.

"Vell, I haf to go help vith the chores," he said, pulling his wand out of his pocket.

"You do chores?"

"Vhy, of course!" he said, taken back by the surprise in her voice. His offended expression changed as she raised an eyebrow, "Vell, actually, Karkaroff never made me vork much. But I think I should now that…" his eyes darkened.

"Okay, then, I'll see you later!" she said quickly.

"Good-vye," he said in wistful tone. She waved as he disappeared into the cabin. Sighing because she was unable to figure out the problems that were burning her forehead, Hermione got up from the boulder and walked up to the great castle of Hogwarts, deep in thought.

* * *

"Welcome back," Ron Weasley greeted as his bishop wrestled a pawn off the chessboard. "Where've you been?"

"Out," she answered as she pulled a chair up to the table where the lanky redhead and raven-haired boy were sitting.

"Doing what?" asked Ron.

"Thinking."

He blew out a puff of breath. "How many times do we have to go over this: thinking is not something you want to do at three in the afternoon, especially at the end of the year!"

She glared at him. "Well not thinking, especially in between classes, can make idiots like _you_ walk into the wrong bathroom."

Ron flushed bright red. "It was just that one time!"

"Yeah, one time too many!" she shot back.

"Will you two shut up so I can make my move in peace?" Harry asked impatiently as he stared at the stone chess figures.

The two quickly fell into silence as Harry directed his knight forward.

_I feel sorry for him_, thought Hermione as she sat back and stared at the chessboard unseeingly. She looked around the common room and was not surprised to find its comfortable, scarlet couches empty. _Everyone's either outside enjoying the weather or they are avoiding Harry because they think he killed Cedric or something equally absurd. It's stupid how gossip blazes through the school_. She looked at the two boys before her. They both seemed older than the other boys in their year, especially the one with the famous lightning bolt-shaped scar.

"Hey, Hermione."

She blinked and refocused her vision, breaking out of her reverie. "What?"

"D'you wanna play?" Ron asked as he motioned at the chessboard. The white figures were hopping up and down with glee, thumping sounds of stone on wood could be heard over the squeals of pleasure.

"You won again?" she asked even though she already knew the answer.

"Of course," he spread his arms out to make himself look superior. "I'm the master of chess, remember?"

"Someday one of us is going to de-throne you," she said as she got out of her chair.

"So do you want to play?" he asked, dropping his arms to his sides.

"No," she refused flatly.

"But…but," Ron looked at her with pleading eyes.

"Go pack your trunk!" she ordered as she pointed at the boys' dormitory, ignoring the belly flop that her stomach made when she looked at his expression. "Harry, go with him so he won't decide to procrastinate and wait until tomorrow morning!"

Ron grumbled as he roughly swept his still-celebrating chess figures into his arms. The figures shrieked in protest as they jarred and bounced with every stomp that he took. Harry's figures sniggered until the famous boy-who-lived swept them into his arms.

"And if you play chess up there, I'll take your figures and chuck them into the lake!" Hermione called after Ron's retreating back. He scowled at her. She placed her hands on his hips and glared at him warningly. Harry chuckled quietly as he followed the less-than-pleased redhead up the spiral steps.

She waited until she was up in the empty girls' dormitory before she burst into laughter. It was moments like those that made life worth living. With a very bleak future standing before them, Hermione quietly cherished these moments. Despite the drama of having a man three years older than her telling her that he liked her, of being friends with two of the greatest guys in the world, and of trying to find herself as a war between the good and the evil loomed before her.

Sure they might die sooner than they expected. Sure she was a major target because she was a close friend of Harry's. And, sure they were definitely going to grow up a few years faster than expected, but so long as Ron kept cracking his jokes, Harry kept his feet on the ground, and she kept everyone in line, they would be all right.

She smirked at a glass jar on her bedside table. Maybe she could tell the other two she captured a certain nosy reporter when they got on the train the next day…

She sighed as she started to pack her trunk. Being the eldest and most responsible was not fun, but someone had to take the job. She was just grateful it wasn't Ron…

* * *

Wow, that was a short one… Next one's definitely gonna be longer! Especially since it's…it's my last chapter…(-tear- -tear-). 

Watched Chamber of Secrets on ABC last night! Seriously can't wait for the fourth movie! Or the sixth book for that matter! More so the book than the movie…

I'm a HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE Hermione/Ron shipper, so I kinda stuck the little stuff in. Sorry, I'm a sucker for that couple. Can't wait 'til they get together (and for Ron to grow up, for that matter…)

Okay, um…anything else?

Oh. Yeah.

PLEASE REVIEW! I could use some constructive criticism (flames are okay, too…so…) 'coz I only have a chapter left and I really wanna make it my best one! Plus those things are better than chocolate…so…

'Til we meet again, my little muffins,

Farfanugans,

Chikin Wang.


	8. Open Wounds and Apologies

Sorry it took me so long to get this up! I just finished the state-wide testing thing and we have three weeks of school left and the teachers are going all out insane by loading us down with ALL THIS WORK! I just finished my science project so I decided to reward myself by working on the last chapter! Hope y'all like it!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter equals NOT MINE!

* * *

**_How She Came To Be… _**

**Chapter VIII**:

_Open Wounds and Apologies (1997) _

_

* * *

_

Hermione Granger, present day Hermione Granger with her long locks of curly brown hair, scowled at the fireplace. It was the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year and here she was, sitting on the overstuffed scarlet couch closest to the window she shattered the previous night with a quill in one hand and a white first aid kit in the other. The window had been repaired by someone and the thick crimson curtains were drawn apart to reveal a clear blue sky with an occasional solitary fluffy cloud. She sighed as she looked at the perfect weather. She had only been able to come down from the girls' dormitory with her bag of assignments because he injured foot wouldn't allow her to make more than twenty paces before bleeding through its bandage.

She groaned as she adjusted her right foot for the fourth time in the past half-hour. It was raised a pile of ruby cushions with gold tassels on the loveseat. The position caused the blood flow to reduce significantly, however, it made rewriting the potions essay that a certain young man with red hair incinerated the night before extremely difficult.

"Stupid Ron," she grumbled as she balanced the sheet of parchment on her stomach with a worn black book. "If he didn't decide to throw my essay into the fire, then I would be at Hogsmeade. And I wouldn't be bleeding to death, either."

"I didn't throw it into the fire," a said familiar baritone voice in a defensive tone from the portrait hole. She jerked in surprise, the bottle of ink that was tucked next to her elbow slipped and fell forward. Black ink stained her clothes and the scarlet loveseat.

"_Ron!_" she said in an exasperated tone as she pulled out her wand to remove the blotches. "What are you doing here?"

Ron Weasley, the tallest Gryffindor with the same large hands and feet approached her as she used the cleaning charm to remove the blots of ink. He held a rectangular box in one hand. "Look," he said as he came to a stop next to her foot, "I'm sorry about yesterday, okay?"

"Sure you are," she growled as she returned to her work.

He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Will you please look at me?" he asked in a quiet tone.

She lifted her brown orbs with great reluctance.

"I'm sorry I took your homework without your permission. I'm sorry I don't try hard enough. But someone needs to remember how to have fun. It's not you because you're the responsible one. Harry can't because he's the one that has to save the world again. I'm the one who grew up with Fred and George as brothers, so I took on the burden of being the one that breaks the tension of hard times. You have no idea how hard it is to be me."

Hermione couldn't help it; she burst out laughing as Ron came to the end of speech.

"I'm serious!" he said as his downcast expression turned into one of hurt.

"Let's see," she said after her giggles subsided. "Trying to keep idiots like you from accidentally killing yourself," she raised on hand in front of her, palm side up, "or making dumb jokes about Crookshanks," she raised her other hand in the same fashion and pumped the two up and down though she was weighing something. "Which one seems harder to you?"

Ron blinked at her. "Anyway," he said, ignoring her question and continuing on, "I wanted you to know that I'll try to do my work on my own for a while."

"For a while," she repeated under her breath. She them raised her voice and said, "You're impossible," with a slight smile playing on her lips.

"Oh, yeah," he thrust his hand into the pocket of his robe. "Here, I copied this before yours fell into the fire."

She waved the wrinkled parchment away. "It's all right, I already wrote a new one. I also added a few more things to make it more accurate."

"So the essay falling into the fire wasn't a total loss after all," said Ron in a bright tone. She glared at him. "But it's still a great loss," he added quickly in a grave tone.

"What exactly happened to my original copy anyway?" she asked as she pulled her legs to her chest so he could take a seat.

"It was stupid," he said as he took the seat, but pulled her leg back so that it was still elevated. She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, c'mon, you really expect me to see your bleed to death?" he asked as he positioned a cushion on his lap and placed her injured foot on it.

"You'll never cease to amaze me," she said before waving for his to continue with the story.

"Anyway, I was copying your essay with Harry—"

"Where is he?" she asked.

"Hogsmeade?" he answered uncertainly. "And I was about to put it back when this second year accidentally stepped on Crookshanks' tail."

Hermione winced. Her ginger cat went berserk when her father accidentally dropped a book on its tail a few years ago.

"And I went to help, but Crookshanks chased the kid to the table we were at and then he hopped on top of it and, naturally, Crookshanks got up too. Next thing I know, the kid jumped off, tipping the table and everything on it over. All my quills and parchment went straight into the fire. We had the shut Crookshanks up in our dormitory. Dean wasn't happen about his nicely torn sheets, by the way.

"I'm sorry," she said after a pause.

Ron waved the apology away. "It's all right. I had that little telling off coming at me all summer.

She smiled as she turned away. The rectangular box was sitting on the floor next to his worn sneakers. "What's that?" she asked, motioning at the box.

"Oh," he leaned over to retrieve it before handing it to her. She looked at him curiously as she unwrapped the flowered paper and took the cardboard top off. She giggled slightly.

The shoe that she kicked out the window the previous night was perched on top of a thick blanket of tissue paper.

"I went down to get it last night," he explained as she took it out. "Right after I fixed the window, that is. It took a while, though. Finding the shoe, I mean. It was about halfway down the walkway to the greenhouses by the time I caught up to it," his face twisted into a pained expression. "Shoe hunting in the middle of a thunderstorm is not fun."

"You could have used the Summoning Charm," she pointed out.

Ron blinked. "_Huh_," he said. It was more of a comment than a question. "Yeah, that would've been easier…"

"Well, thanks for the shoe," she said, waving the black shoe around as she handed the box back to him.

"Wait, there's something else," he gently pushed the cardboard container back into her hands. She raised an eyebrow as she removed the thick blanket of delicate yellow tissue paper.

"It's not much," he said hurriedly as the crinkling thin paper fell to the floor. "Consider it a late birthday present."

She gasped and lifted a worn stuffed squirrel out. Her mouth opened and closed repeatedly, but no sound came out.

Ron winced slightly. "I saw this at an old Muggle toy store a few weeks ago," he said defensively. "I know it's not in the best condition. I went to get it repaired today, but the people down at Hogsmeade said it couldn't be fixed."

"Ron, it's okay," she croaked out. "It's…it's…."

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, reaching out to take the toy back. "I thought you might like it…"

"No, Ron!" she quickly cleared her throat. "I'm not disappointed! This…I can't believe it! How did you…?" She shook her head at his averted eyes and his purpling ears. "This is my stuffed otter! The one that I told you about!"

He looked up, a surprised expression on his flushed face. "The one that your dad gave away in our first year?"

"Yes!" Hermione gently ran a finger across a small tear between the ears. She looked at him curiously, "How did you know?"

"I didn't," he admitted. "I just saw it in some grubby muggle store when I was in London and it reminded me of you," he looked from the toy to the happy young woman and back. "Are you sure it's Olive?"

"Yes," Hermione smiled, pointing at the worn right front paw. "I used to chew on this when I was little."

"Eh…" Ron faked a disgusted look. "I washed it seven time, you know, just in case you want to chew it again."

She reached forward and whacked him with her trusty squirrel. He ducked and she gave him an embrace. "What would I do without you?" she asked his rumpled red hair.

"Have less than perfect essays?" he returned as she sat back.

She sat there, only able to shake her head at his response. He studied her carefully, causing her cheeks to flush red under the awkward pause.

"What's that?" he asked, motion at the worn black book on her stomach.

"Oh, um," she looked at it, quickly collecting her wits. "It's a book that my grandmother gave me after my grandfather died."

"What, is it his old Bible or something?" asked Ron, tilting his head to one side in order to read the title.

"Yeah, 'coz all Bibles are titled Greek Mythology," Hermione said in a tone drenched with sarcasm.

"That's what it says?"

She looked down and was surprised to find the fine gold letters peeling and fading. It _did_ appear indistinct, she admitted to herself. "Sorry," she said aloud. "I forgot it got that way."

"Let's hear one, then," he said.

"Um, okay," she nodded, slowly lifted the covers and flipped the pages until she came to a section lined with blue highlights. "How about the Trojan War?" she asked.

"Sure," he leaned back, placing his hands behind his head in a casual manner.

She gulped. _Okay, Hermione, you're a Gryffindor. You're suppose to be brave. C'mon, you can do it_, she coached herself as she looked at the opening sentence. _Helen was the most beautiful woman in all of Greece. Okay, one down, a couple hundred thousand to go_. She inhaled and exhaled slowly, trying to calm herself.

"Hermione?"

She looked up, registering the worried expression on his freckled face.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah," she answered in a high pitched tone. "Great."

"You're crying," he said in a matter of fact tone.

Her hand flew up to one cheek and was met by a narrow stream of moisture. "It's…it's nothing," she mumbled. "I was just…thinking."

"I'm telling you, thinking's going to be your downfall," he said, but his face was still etched with concern. "Are you sure you're okay? What's the matter?"

"I was thinking exactly," she corrected her previous statement. "I was…remembering…" She paused, looking down at the untouched pages. "I've never finished this book."

Ron's expression twisted from concern to disbelief. "Ladies and gentlemen," he announced to the empty common room, "Hermione didn't finish a book. The world's gonna come to an end now."

She grabbed a throw pillow by its god tassels and hit the young man with red hair upside the head. "Shut up!" she ordered as he dodged her second blow. He smiled charmingly and her stomach jolted upwards.

"Here," he offered his hand. She looked at it, confused. Not knowing what to do, she shook it. He roared with laughter. "No, I'll read it to you, okay?"

"Oh, yeah," her face blushed an attractive shade of dark scarlet as she passed the worn black book to him. She listened as he recited the prophet of Paris the son of the King of Troy and how Paris would be the downfall of the great city. One of the maids was suppose to drown him, but she sent him down the stream in a woven basket instead. An elderly shepherd found the boy and raised him with his wife…

"Hey, Hermione?"

"Hmmm?" she directed her attention from the window to Ron.

"What's this?" he held up a wrinkled sheet of paper wedged between two pages of the book.

"I don't know," she accepted the sheet of paper. There were little dried splotches across it. Confused, she unfolded it and read the first line. Realization dawned. "Oh."

"Oh, what?" asked curious Ron, leaning over her foot to look at it.

"It's a stupid poem I wrote after I got back from the only sleepover I was ever invited to when I was eleven." Her eyes darkened, "Or, rather, after I set a diary on fire and ran home because the girls were little bit…er…evil idiots that accused me of being a witch."

"What?"

She sighed. "It was right before I found out that I was—I _am_—a witch and this girl invited me over because he mum made her and…it's just complicated."

"Oh."

She looked at the neat handwriting smudged by old tears.

_I remember when life was simple and free  
__I remember reading books and talking to Grandpa  
__I remember floating toy and plants growing at the speed of light  
__I remember turning Cousin Jeffrey's hair green when he put a frog in my juice  
__I remember rolling off the bed and hanging in midair  
__I remember the stuffing coming out of Olive  
__I remember seeds blooming overnight  
__I remember when life was normal without cliques and the popular people getting thing their way and making false accusations_

Hermione shook her head. She had grown so much in the past seven years. Gone were the days when she doubted her sanity. She knew who she was. She was comfortable with herself. She squeezed Olive's worn paw. But she was still the same person in many ways. She was Hermione Granger, over achiever, cautious, responsible Hermione. Learning as much as she possibly could, listening, giving advice, having great friends…all these things made her who she was…

She balled the sheet of paper up and threw it into a trash bin.

"Okay, I'll read it," she said, taking the book. Ron resumed his favorite position with his hands behind his head and she started. Now she knew she could handle anything. As long as she remembered who she was, she could take on the world. This was the person she was born to be.

* * *

Okay. Yeah. It took me…er…three weeks to finish that. I'm soooooooooo sorry! It's just that there were all these things and I found out I had to play at a piano recital and then exams and lessons and pool parties and a surprise baby shower for my orchestra teacher and…this month has been HECTIC.

…

Oh, all right. I should've found SOME time to get this up sooner…

Anyway.

Last day of school's tomorrow. Scaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaary. And I finished. I FINISHED! This is the first fic that's NOT a one shot that I've ever finished….

I think I'm finally growing up.

Okay. Here are some paper plate awards:

The "_Person That Noted My Pathetic Attempts At Humor and Really Got Into The Fic That Loved Olive As Much As Me Who Stuck With Me Award_" goes to **Prin69**. Reading your reviews was great and I hope you enjoyed the last chapter! Here's a bag of M&Ms and pen.

The "_Most Creative Penname And Got Bogged Down With The Most Homework/Projects That Loves and Hates Jason Who Read What I Wrote Award_" goes to **PatronSaintofEveryhingWeird**. Thanks loads for reading this! And take it easy this summer! Here's a folder divider and a bag of gummy worms

The "_Person Who Pointed Out My Mistakes With Class and Studied Romeo and Juliet At The Same Time As Me Who Mourned Over Grandpa's Death And Didn't Give Up On Me Award_" goes to **Padfootlive101**. Thankies! Pointing out my mistakes kept me focused and you're an awesome reviewer! Here's a box of Cookie & Twix and a paintbrush.

I have no idea what I'm gonna do next. Hopefully something more original than this one. But I loved writing it!

Okay. Gotta go study for my last two exams. I'm almost a soph-more-ie!

Thanks.


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